


don't read this

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work, Personal Piece - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Gen, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentions of self-harm, Personal story, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vent Piece, this is gross and awful don't read it, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:38:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: it's awful and personal, it's just me venting out my depression at almost midnight the day after christmas bc i'm a mess and i can't cope





	don't read this

you've begun counting.

you didn't, the first time you did this. (the first times you did this.) (the first series of times you did this.)

you've been doing it for years, in some form. but it used to be things no one would give the name to. it was little, invisible things. pushing at your cuticles to make them hurt. pressing your long nails into your fingertips to make them hurt. scratching and scratching at your wrists to make them hurt. 

it feels like you've been doing it forever. you know that can't be true. you don't remember a life without the need to do it. 

you know it wasn't there at first. you know you were happy, really truly honestly happy, once upon a time.

(fairy tales are bullshit. there's no magic and no faeries and no happy endings.)

you can't remember.

you're off-track. (just like always. you're rambling, just like always.)

you're counting, now. three on the right. three on the left.

six on the left.

two neat, asymmetrical x's on your breasts. (disgusting, hateful, horrible things. you want them gone. you want to go downstairs and take the butcher knife and  _slice_ )

one on your right knee. (that one's an accident, the scissors slipped while you were opening a box. you shouldn't count it. you do anyway.)

six on the left thigh.

five on the left thigh, a neat set of tally marks.

another fully tally.

another.

two tallies on the beginning of the curve of your stomach. (swollen, disgusting, hateful thing. you want to go downstairs and pick up the butcher knife and  _stab_ )

you turn your back to your sister when you change.

you google the location of the femoral artery in the thigh. you google how deep a cut has to be to leave a scar.

you didn't used to worry about that.

(once upon a time, you were shiny and happy and little.)

once upon a time (later, because happy endings aren't real) - later, even though you were taking your pills (and you're taking them now, too, you don't understand what's gone wrong), you pulled the pride pin off your backpack and went to work.

you take an obscene pride in the height of the "safety" (hah) pin times. you pinned it right through your stomach, thin skin pulled tight, purple pulsing and turning to red as it dribbled out around the little silver spike, and you held it there in your side for half an hour. 

(and then you were weak, and you took it out.)

and then you were weak and disappointing, and you broke, and you  _told._

you're better now. you've said it only once, and he can't stop you. he hugged you and said to tell him if you kept going.

(you haven't. you're stronger now. your loose tongue is tied up tight. your flapping jaw is bolted shut.)

nine on the left. three on the right.

fifteen on the left.

a pair of x's.

ten on the stomach.

(and you're greedy, because you still aren't satisfied, you pathetic little thing.)

one on the knee, and your untrimmed fingernails digging into your unmarked arms.

(and you look your mom in the eye, the little knife your dad bought you [only after you swore you'd never ever ever use it on yourself] in your pocket, its blade clean, and you promise you're not hurting yourself.)

(and you're not. the knife isn't in your flesh when she asks. you've hurt yourself, but you're not hurting yourself.)

(aren't semantics wonderful?)

i'm fine, mama,

don't worry, mama,

i'm just tired, mama,

i'm fine, mama,

i'm okay, mama,

everything's okay, mama,

i promise.


End file.
